


deep in the forest

by naktoms



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: ... actually both things i should have been working on are hyungwonho, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Shit, i did this instead of writing the other hyungwonho thing i was supposed to be writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naktoms/pseuds/naktoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyungwon does not mean to be exiled, and Wonho does not mean to die. Sometimes, things happen anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deep in the forest

**Author's Note:**

> me: has a week and a half of schoolwork to do  
> me: has two weeks of sleep to catch up on  
> me: writes this instead
> 
> anyway this is just. man. i don't even know anymore it started out as something completely different but then i just ??? ????????? ??????????????? ok  
> also i wrote some of this at a lovely word sprint hosted by my friend shii!! it was super fun, thank you  
> as always kudos + comments are appreciated!!! i hope you enjoy!!

Hyungwon stares out his frosted window at the city beyond the forest, skyscrapers reaching for the clouds and a haze of smog hanging high in the sky. He feels the chill in his house, hears the drip of water telling him that his roof is leaking again, and wishes that he was there instead of here.

But, living in the city for people like him means certain death; necromancers are not welcomed by the king, and even if they were, Hyungwon could not handle wary gazes and mothers pulling their children closer as he walks by.

He is not a necromancer by choice. Some are born with light in their souls, bumbling auras of tenderness and compassion, raised into healers and priests and medicinal workers. Others are born with darkness black as night hanging over them, pouring from their hearts and staining their lives with scorn and mockery. They are hated, exiled, told that their powers are a disgrace. Hyungwon remembers the look on his mother’s face when he first took the life of a bird by accident, first caused a plant to wilt by running his fingers along its stems.

That was years ago, before Hyungwon had even entered school. Now, he is older, and instead of abandoning his powers, he embraced and nurtured them. He thinks himself to be quite skilled, but everything is at a cost.

His hands tighten around the mug of tea in his hands. His eyes move from the horizon to something more immediate, closer to his house, a shrouded figure shuffling slowly through the underbrush.

Hyungwon thinks for a few long moments that it could, perhaps, be one of his many necromancer friends, those exiled as he is, coming to visit or bring him something or tell him of a new spell. But, as the figure rounds the corner of his house, he spots the insignia of the kingdom and his blood runs cold.

However, he remains at the window, sipping his tea until the knocks fall heavy on his door. And then he walks to his door, the picture of peace, and opens it.

He is expecting a letter from someone in the capital or a rogue guardsman come to kill him for extra credit, but the man at his doorstep is pale and, upon further inspection, bleeding very badly from a wound on his shoulder. And, while Hyungwon knows he should shut the door once more, his own personal morals will not allow it.

“Please,” the man whispers, voice shaking. So, Hyungwon steps to the side to make room for him to pass.

“What’s happened to you?” Hyungwon asks as he closes his door with his hip, latching it once more and taking a long drink of his tea before setting it down on the kitchen table.

“I- I was… attacked, by a beast of the forest, I-” The man is cut off when he collapses, passing out cold. His hand falls away from its place cradling the wound on his shoulder and that’s when Hyungwon notices that his arm is missing.

Hyungwon, surprisingly, does not feel a twinge of panic, or anything resembling fear or uncertainty. Instead, he stoops and presses his fingers to the man’s pulse point, checking for life.

It is there, faint, and then it is not. And then the twinge is there.

Hyungwon has never used his resurrective powers on a human being before. He’s done so on animals and plants, watched as they came back to life dull and colorless, entirely unlike the things his mother brought life back to. He rather thinks that death is better than that when a sentient soul is in play.

But… this is an opportunity, he believes, to see the full extent of his powers and their effect on human life when reversing death instead of causing it. And, really, what’s the harm? Based on the patch on the man’s cloak, he is just one member of the guard. He will not be missed by the government.

Hyungwon is running out of time while he sits here, debating. So, he sits on the floor and takes a deep breath to steel himself, conjuring up his powers. It courses through his veins, thrumming dark and heady, and its heavy presence was once foreign but is now like the returning of an old friend. Hyungwon brushes the man’s hair out of his face and notes that he is quite young looking, and gorgeous.

Hyungwon cups the man’s face in his hands, running his thumbs across his eyelids, and then closes his own eyes. The release of power is almost sickening, pulling at Hyungwon’s stomach and heart, and what would have resurrected a dog or an orchid is not nearly enough. After the initial surge, it’s more like a wound oozing, easier than the first time. Hyungwon barely feels the blood dripping out of his nose, a sign he’s pushing himself too far, stores of magic not vast enough to handle the massive undertaking of bringing a human soul back from the great beyond. Especially not like this.

Hyungwon stops when his closed eyelids flash red, jerking his hands away. The sealing of his magic is almost as bad as the outpouring, nearly causing him to heave, and he hurries to wipe his face free of blood. His heart is pounding, and yet the heart of the man on his floor remains still and dead.

Hyungwon feels sad, almost, and he thinks it’s less disappointment over his “experiment” failing and more genuine grief for the life lost, the life he failed to save with the powers that were supposed to enable him to do so. He isn’t sure what to do besides sit here and stare at the corpse in his house.

The only sound for a long while is Hyungwon’s own steady breathing and the chirping of birds outside, soft and distant. As a result, Hyungwon is nearly scared to his own death when the man gasps in a desperate breath, sitting bolt upright, and then is thrown into a coughing fit.

Hyungwon reaches out to do- something, he’s not sure what, but his hands end up hovering uselessly in the air between the man and him. The man’s coughs eventually come to a shuddering stop, and Hyungwon hurries to drop his hands to avoid making it awkward.

The man remains pale, and his shoulder is still bleeding. He looks at Hyungwon, and Hyungwon is almost relieved to find that his eyes are warm and brown. “You,” the man whispers, and his voice is still high and shaky, “what did you do?”

Hyungwon is almost embarrassed to find that his hands are shaking. He stands and walks to the kitchen portion of his one-room house, taking a drink of his now-cold tea before he gathers bandages and alcohol to disinfect. “Do you not know what I am, dear?” He asks as he returns to the man’s side.

“N-No?” The man replies, hesitant.

“I am a necromancer,” Hyungwon says evenly, and takes small joy in the shocked look that crosses the man’s face. “Yes, dear, you died. Quite thoroughly, as well.”

“Oh my god,” the man says, and now he’s crying. Hyungwon sighs. “Oh my god, oh my god… how, how? How did you- how?”

“To tell you the truth, sir,” Hyungwon says, undoing the clasp on the man’s cloak so he can pull it away and get to his wound, “I’m not entirely sure myself. I’ve resurrected small creatures and plants before, but… never a human. I’m… surprised that it worked, honestly.”

The man appears to be in shock, at a loss for anything else to say. Hyungwon carefully removes his shirt, then asks, “What is your name, dear?”

“Oh, my name, it’s- you… you can call me Wonho.”

Hyungwon nods. “Okay, Wonho. You can call me Hyungwon.”

Wonho falls asleep almost the instant Hyungwon gets his shoulder bandaged. Hyungwon does him the service of moving him to his own bed, then sets about cooking him something good to eat. He’s not sure if those resurrected with black magic need to eat, but in any case, Hyungwon himself is hungry.

Wonho does not rouse until Hyungwon wakes him, placing a bowl of soup in his hands and a large mug of herbal tea on the side table. Wonho looks at him in seeming confusion for a long time, then casts his eyes to the bowl.

“What is this?” Wonho asks eventually, voice faint from disuse.

“Rabbit in broth, with some vegetables. Corn, peas, carrots, you know.” Hyungwon makes a vague gesture to imply more assorted garden bounty, and Wonho nods slowly.

“It- It smells great,” Wonho says, with all the enthusiasm of a small child. Hyungwon smiles.

“Well, let’s hope it tastes half as good. Come on, eat up.”

Wonho does as instructed, having most of the bowl devoured by the time Hyungwon has his own dipped and a chair pulled up to sit beside the bed. Hyungwon watches as Wonho drains the bowl of its broth and remaining peas before exhaling contentedly, sinking back into the mound of pillows created to prop him up.

“That was lovely,” Wonho says, turning his head so he can look at Hyungwon. “Thank you, so much, I don’t know how to repay you for anything you’ve done.”

“The good news is that you don’t have to,” Hyungwon says, pausing to sip his own broth. “I require no payment for spur-of-the-moment services, or something like that.”

Wonho nods simply, watching Hyungwon eat. Hyungwon lets him stare curiously without calling him out on it, knowing that the man can’t be expected to have perfect manners when he just lost and regained his life all in one day. After a long while, he begins quietly, “Your hands…”

Hyungwon shifts his bowl to one hand so he can extend the now-free one in front of him, studying his fingers. They are paler than the rest of his skin, veins dark, purple splotches like permanent bruises blooming across his knuckles and fingertips. Hyungwon closes his hand into a fist a couple times, then lays his hand on the edge of the bed.

Wonho takes the silent invitation and takes Hyungwon’s hand in his, pulling it up to his face for closer examination. Hyungwon sets about finishing off his soup while he does this. “Cold,” Wonho remarks. Hyungwon hums into his bowl in acknowledgement. “Is this from the, uh…”

“The necromancy, yes,” Hyungwon supplies once the bowl is away from his face. “You still have some tea. Drink it or I will.”

“Go ahead,” Wonho says, a smile coming to his face when Hyungwon shrugs and takes the mug for himself. Wonho closes his hand around Hyungwon’s and Hyungwon lets him hold it. “Is that blood on your face?”

“Most likely.”

“Mine or yours?”

“My own, probably. A side effect of overexertion when you’re a magic user is the bleeds.” Hyungwon takes a drink of the tea, setting it back on the side table when he’s satisfied. “It’s troublesome, but not too much of a worry. It’s simply… a warning, a sign you should stop before things get much worse.”

“Did resurrecting me cause that?” Wonho asks, and it seems like the words pain him to say. Hyungwon nods silently. “Ah… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Neither one of us knew you were going to die in my house tonight, and I didn’t know that I could resurrect someone so easily. I was expecting a lot worse, in fact, so a little blood from the nose and eyes is nothing.” Hyungwon smiles, then, after a moment’s thought, squeezes Wonho’s hand. Wonho squeezes back. “You should get back to sleep. The loss of a limb is a lot of physical trauma to recover from, not to mention the whole death thing.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Wonho asks, and Hyungwon thinks it’s a rather silly question.

“Of course, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Hyungwon says, standing. He hesitates for a moment, then brushes his hand through Wonho’s hair. “Sleep, dear.”

Wonho does.

“What are you doing?”

Hyungwon sighs. “Always asking me questions, like a little child.”

“Well, when you haul a boar carcass in here without a word, put it on a spit, and then start draining it into a glass jar, I’m bound to have some questions.” Wonho replies from his current position sitting in the floor, watching Hyungwon do the aforementioned.

“Point taken,” Hyungwon says blandly. “It’s not any old boar, dear, it has the brand of Hecate on it, which means it’s from the temple down south. We’re going to get a lot of money for this jar of blood.”

“We’re?” Wonho repeats. “Since when is there a we?”

“Since you bled all over my front stoop,” Hyungwon replies. “Admit it, there is no way you can ever go back to the capital. It’s been weeks, they’ll have already held a funeral for you. If a search party came through, I can guarantee they did not go deep enough into the forest, lest they end up like you did.”

Wonho looks rather crushed for a moment, but Hyungwon puts it aside in favor of quickly switching out jars, as the first is getting too full. Blood splatters onto the hardwood floor and Hyungwon makes a face of distaste, hurriedly positioning the jar beneath the throat of the boar and sealing up the other one. Wonho remains quiet for a long while before quietly asking, “How much money will we get for it?”

“At least twenty thousand pieces of gold, maybe more,” Hyungwon says, and he smiles when Wonho’s face lights up. “More than you would have made in a year working for the capital as a common guardsman, right?”

Wonho nods eagerly. “Definitely. Do you always do stuff like this?”

“Not always, but frequently. I have many friends at the marketplace.”

“There’s a market for things like this?”

Hyungwon laughs. “Dear, you have so much to learn about the exile community. Only fitting, since you’re now one of us.”

“... One of you?” Wonho repeats, voice small. “But, I’m not-”

“I know you’re not a necromancer,” Hyungwon cuts in, pausing to wrap his hands around the boar’s neck and wring it to squeeze any last drops of blood out. “But you were resurrected with black magic, and that means the kingdom no longer wants any part of you. You’re just like the rest of us out here in the deep forest, now.”

Wonho doesn’t say anything more, seemingly taking in the information. Hyungwon sets about disposing of the boar, knowing the meat will probably turn out dry and tasteless now that there’s no blood to it (and he doesn’t have a particular liking for pork, anyway). When he comes back, he sees that Wonho has already sealed the second jar for him, and he nods to him in silent approval.

“We’ll take this and some other wares to the market tomorrow,” Hyungwon informs as he scrubs his hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe while we’re there. Nobody will be able to tell you’re a capital boy.”

“How do you know?” Wonho asks, rising and coming to stand beside Hyungwon. Hyungwon finds that he is slightly taller than Wonho.

“Because you smell like I do, now.” Hyungwon replies. “Anyone around there with their devilhounds sniffing for rats will only find the stench of darkness.”

“You know, I really don’t understand half of what you say,” Wonho says. Hyungwon cackles.

“Devilhounds are beasts bred to pick up specific scents,” Hyungwon explains, hefting the jars up onto the counter. “The government used to use them, but now they’re more of an underground thing. They sniff out people from the capital trying to find dirt on the exile community.” Hyungwon leans down, pressing his forehead to Wonho’s and whispering, “And then they eat them.”

“Oh,” Wonho replies lamely. Hyungwon smiles and straightens, brushing past Wonho’s good shoulder and coming to sit on the couch. Wonho sits beside him. “So, do humans trade at this marketplace?”

“Well, that depends on your definition of a human. I’m a human, you know.”

“You know what I mean.”

Hyungwon pats Wonho’s knee. “I do, I do. Yes, they do trade at the market. Lots of local women make their living at this market, selling food and medicine to exiles. It’s a good business. I sell potion- and spell-related things, like the boar blood. I’ve also got some old spellbooks to put up for trade, I’m hoping someone will have some newer collections to give me in return. And other miscellaneous things that we’ll sort through in the morning.”

Wonho nods. “Okay. I’m… I’m excited.”

“It is rather exciting, I suppose. I was exiled at a young age, so the market almost raised me.”

“How old were you?”

Hyungwon debates whether or not it’s wise to share personal details. Then, he decides that Wonho will probably spend the rest of his life in this community now, so Hyungwon has nothing to lose. “I was fifteen,” Hyungwon says, looking away from Wonho and at the floor. “My mother tried to steer me away from black magic, because she and my father both were white magic users. My father was a doctor and my mother worked as his nurse. I outright told my mother that this is what I wanted to do, this is the life I wanted to pursue… so she told me that I got what I deserved and turned me into the local guardsmen. I was exiled within the month and an old lady gave me this house. Said she was going to die soon, so someone else deserved it. I’ve lived here ever since.”

“How old are you now?” Wonho asks, voice soft.

“Twenty-four.”  Hyungwon replies, matching Wonho in tone. It’s an oddly intimate moment for Hyungwon, as he doesn’t get to share much about himself with others very often for fear of being shunned even further than he already has been. It’s apparently not just him, however, because Wonho offers his hand for Hyungwon to take. Hyungwon does, their fingers slotting together easily.

“Are you adjusting well to having only one arm?” Hyungwon asks, laughing when Wonho shakes his head exaggeratedly.

“No, heavens no… it’s so difficult. I sometimes think that staying dead would have been better than having to live with only the one arm.”

“I can always kill you again,” Hyungwon teases in a sing-song voice, and it’s Wonho’s turn to laugh now. “Here, tell me something about yourself, in return for all that I spilled to you.”

“Oh, dear… there’s nothing special, nothing to match what you told me.” Wonho seems a bit embarrassed, cheeks coloring. “I’m just… the son of a guardsman, fourth generation. There won’t be a fifth, I suppose. And now I guess I’m… a necromancer’s assistant.”

“Isn’t that a lovely title,” Hyungwon jokes, but Wonho nods.

“It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I like it.”

Hyungwon thinks for a moment, mulling it over in his head. A necromancer’s assistant. Interesting. “I like it too,” Hyungwon says eventually. “But, it’s late. We need some sleep if we’re to get up early tomorrow, the market closes early. Come on.”

Hyungwon stands and pulls Wonho to his feet, not letting go of his hand as he leads him over to the bed. Hyungwon long since abandoned any chivalrous acts of sleeping on the couch for Wonho’s comfort since Wonho’s shoulder has healed enough to not cause horrible pain if accidentally bumped in the night. Wonho has, thankfully, embraced this in more than one way, Hyungwon waking up frequently with Wonho nuzzling into his neck or holding onto his hand. It’s quite endearing.

Once they’re settled in bed and Hyungwon thinks Wonho has dozed off, Hyungwon whispers to himself, “I’ve missed company so badly.”

And, a few moments afterwards, Wonho whispers back, “I’ll stay as long as you let me.”

In the morning, Hyungwon rips the kingdom insignia off of Wonho's cloak and scrubs the blood out of it.

"Here," Hyungwon says, handing it to him. "Good as new."

Wonho tries to put the cloak on by himself, but ultimately fails, looking to Hyungwon for help. Hyungwon smiles and drapes the cloak around Wonho's shoulders, gently fastening the silver clasp on the front. Wonho returns his smile and they set about packing up all their wares for the market.

The market is bustling as usual, in its regular place towards the deepest section of the forest in a long cleared-out field. Hyungwon has always shared a stall with one of his old friends, Kwangji, and Kwangji calls out a happy greeting as Hyungwon and Wonho approach.

"Hyungwon!" Kwangji says once Hyungwon is behind the stall, helping him unload his things. "And who is this?" Kwangji asks, directed towards Wonho.

"This is my new friend, Wonho," Hyungwon says, figuring that it's alright to toss out Wonho's name since Wonho is a nobody around the capital and will now be a permanent fixture at the market just as Hyungwon is. "He's new to this line of work, and has no magical abilities."

"Ah, well, we welcome your presence nonetheless." Kwangji says warmly, and Wonho matches the sentiment in kindness.

Expectedly, the boar blood is picked up for twenty thousand pieces of gold a jar, and the herbal tea bags that Hyungwon prepared himself go for ten pieces of gold per box of twenty. Hyungwon goes home with the same exact spellbooks he came with, but he decides it's a good outing nonetheless, and gives Wonho a thousand pieces of gold to spend around the market for himself.

Wonho returns with two cinnamon buns and gives Hyungwon one of them while Hyungwon is discussing corn prices with a stall owner. Hyungwon makes a noise of surprise, then pulls the bun from Wonho's hand and takes a bite. It's warm, very sweet, and honestly tastes like a little piece of heaven.

"Thank you, dear," Hyungwon says over his shoulder, and the stall owner, Jinye, giggles behind her hand. "What?" Hyungwon asks, directed at Jinye since Wonho is off again to find more things to buy.

"You don't call anyone 'dear'," Jinye says, tying bushels of grain off with twine. "What's so special about him?"

"He's... he's my friend." Hyungwon replies, taking another bite of the cinnamon bun in his hand. "It's... you don't understand how lonely I get in my house, Jinye. He helps fill the space."

"Oh, so he's living with you?" Jinye asks, teasing edge to her voice.

"Yes, the same way Solbin lives with you." Hyungwon says, and watches with satisfaction as a fluster rises to Jinye's face.

"Come on, Hyungwon," Jinye whines, and Hyungwon grins.

"Alright, fine. Here, give me some of that dry oatmeal. I'll feed it to Wonho." Hyungwon digs up fifteen pieces of silver, the price that it's always been for oatmeal at Jinye's stall, and Jinye takes it gratefully. She hands over the tin of oatmeal with a bright smile and Hyungwon returns it, waving as he moves on to the next stall.

In the end, they return home with the oatmeal, another few cinnamon buns, a large assortment of vegetables, and some first aid supplies to replenish the stores that Wonho depleted when his wound still required more attention.

Hyungwon puts the rest of the gold they earned today in the same urn he puts all his other money and sets it on the top shelf of his herb and spice cabinet. He turns to Wonho with a satisfied smile.

"A great day's work!" Hyungwon says proudly, feeling light and happy for the first time in a long time. "But, here, I want to see your shoulder for a moment."

"Alright, let me just sit down..." Wonho does sit, on the couch, and Hyungwon sits beside him. "I think it was too much excitement, I feel so sleepy."

"Entirely possible. You can take a nap after I fix lunch." Hyungwon carefully removes Wonho's cloak, hiking his shirt up and not missing the bumps of muscle beneath his fingers when his hands run up Wonho's torso. He tries his best to ignore it in favor of the task at hand, tearing away the bandages carefully to reveal the freshly scarred skin beneath, some dark scabs still lingering in places. Hyungwon gently touches it, feeling the odd bumps hidden beneath the skin, and he remembers seeing Wonho dead on his floor, remembers his soft, pale cheeks beneath his hands.

Wonho's cheeks are still soft and pale and there are hollows beneath his eyes that reflect the ones under Hyungwon's. Hyungwon cups Wonho's face in his hands and looks into his eyes, searching for- something, something, he's not sure what.

Wonho mimics Hyungwon as best he can, thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath Hyungwon's left eye. Then, he says softly, "You were lonely, weren't you?"

"Very," Hyungwon agrees, sliding his hands down to rest on Wonho's shoulders, then to push his shirt back down. "I... I don't know how to explain it. I feel better with someone here with me."

Wonho nods. "I'm glad I'm not alone in the forest. Or dead. Or... even if someone from the capital had found me, I would have been discharged from service... given some kind of badge of honor or something even though it was my own stupidity that lost me my arm. Being useless is worse than being dead."

"You won't be useless around here, I always need someone to help me but I've never had the help." Hyungwon feels a little sad at the admission, like it's been sitting heavy on his heart for a long while. "I've been by myself for years, so I never thought it would bother me, but... I just..."

"You don't have to make excuses for it," Wonho whispers, and then he kisses Hyungwon, just like that, gentle but all in a flustered rush. And then he kisses him again, and again, and again, and Hyungwon can taste the faint cinnamon from earlier in the day on his lips.

So, Hyungwon still lives in the forest, and still stares at the capital on the horizon. But now he has someone to share the chill with him and hear the dripping of his roof leak, someone to hope and dream with, someone to teach and help, someone to love.

Wonho’s slender fingers drip with ink, and instead of writing the rune Hyungwon told him to, he writes Hyungwon’s name. Hyungwon dips his own fingers in the inkwell and writes Wonho’s name on the papyrus too.

They are alone together, and that is fine.


End file.
